


Untitled AND Unfinished

by kisahawklin



Series: Supernatural Season 12 Tagathon [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Episode: s12e13 Family Feud, Jossed, M/M, completely and utterly NOT the way they went with this, whew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: I thought for sure, at the end of the last episode, that Dean was going to cave, and Sam was going to go along with his brother. I have never been more thankful to have been jossed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Leaving this unfinished because it really wasn't about the episode anymore - basically it became "things I want to say to Sam" - and I want to move on to some meta for 12.14.

Sam's made his peace with the way he and Dad never got along. It took a while. Really, it took other problems that were way bigger than that to make him realize it just didn't matter. If Dad liked Dean best because Dean was the obedient, perfect son, well. Sam couldn't blame him. He liked Dean best, too, though not for his obedience. 

Sam's come to terms with it. He didn't really know what he thought about Mom; he never had a relationship with her, so of course Dean was her favorite back then. He should've known the few times he'd seen her since then, it wasn't really her. Hell, he knew the one mirage of her while he was in Bobby's panic room was nothing more than his own mind trying to comfort him. His brain is good at that. It's the only comfort he gets, sometimes. 

Mom now, though... he'd thought... Well, he thought she might actually be interested in getting to know him. He definitely wanted to get to know her. He wanted to hear more about her life from before, more than the glimpse they got when they went back in time. Hell, he'd be happy to hear about her life _now_ , even despite the British Men of Letters. 

But it's Dean again, he's the one that commands all the attention, he's the one that Mom argues with, he's the one that Mom looks at with those pleading eyes for them to understand.

It doesn't take long to realize that it doesn't matter what he thinks or feels or has to say. He gets up and leaves when he sees Dean's stony-faced disagreement slipping. His ingrained "they hurt Sammy" defense doesn't hold up under that obedient streak he has, and Sam will never come first in a fight between him and their mother. He'll lose that place just as he lost it to Dad, way back when. 

He resigns himself to once again to working with the assholes who have tortured him and leaves the table, going to his room to rest. If he's going to end up working with the Brits, he wants to be well-rested, at least.

He's not even close to sleeping when Dean comes and stands in his doorway for a few minutes. Even as few as three years ago, he might have come in, checked on Sam a little more closely, pulled the covers up. Since the Mark of Cain, though, he's been more distant, keeping his more tender emotions buried deep. Sam tries to remember what it felt like to really know that Dean had his back, that Dean really meant it when he said nothing would come between them. 

It doesn't matter. It's Sam's turn to take up that burden anyway. He's been the weight around Dean's neck for long enough, it's time for him to be the life preserver for a change. He can keep them afloat. He'll pick up the pieces after this all goes south. He'll find a way to help Dean deal with Mary's inevitable death. 

Oh, yeah, he can feel that. He's known since Billie mentioned it back at Asa's funeral. Selfishly, he is almost waiting for it. Maybe it will shake something loose in Dean, help crumble those walls a little bit. And if he meanly thinks he won't be missing that much on the "having Mom back" front, well. He never said he was a good son. 

Hours later, he's still awake. He hasn't moved, is still just lying in bed, his mind running in circles like a hamster on a wheel. He hears the footsteps coming down the hall and knows they're Cas. Well, he's not 100% on that; he knows 100% that they're not Dean, and he's about 80% sure they're too heavy to be his Mom's, so that pretty much only leaves Cas. He supposes at this point it might be Crowley or Rowena, but they're definitely not high heels and Crowley coming down the sleeping quarters hallway at 3am seems unlikely.

Most of him hopes that Cas is coming to check on him. Most of him thinks it's probably Cas wandering the halls for something to do while they're sleeping. When the footsteps stop at his door, he can't help smiling. Cas is checking on him. The warmth he feels toward Cas has been growing lately, an unchecked flame growing in his chest. 

He misses the concern, the open displays of affection. Dean might never have been a big hugger, or able to say "I love you," but his affection was still obvious. His concern, his protective streak. All of it was right there, easier to read than the muddled crystal ball of their lives.

He feels it still, sometimes, but it's hidden, mostly. Dean's harder, and Sam's less likely to go looking. But Cas offers – all the time, not just when things are bad and he's lecturing them with "I love you"s like they're small children. Sam secretly loves it.

Still, he pretends to be asleep. He's out of practice in dealing with that kind of care, not that he was particularly good at it before. He doesn’t know what to say to Cas, or how to ask for help, or what help might even look like.

"Sam?"

Apparently Sam isn't good enough at faking sleep to fool Cas. He debates ignoring Cas, letting his silence tell Cas to keep moving. 

But he doesn't want Cas to keep moving. He doesn't know what he wants, exactly, but he knows that it's more than lying in bed alone, throwing a pity party for himself. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out, not moving just yet. "Yeah, Cas?"

Cas hums an affirmative. He's gotten more versed in Winchester communication these last years. Learned sarcasm, learned stony silences, learned how not to ask for help or kindness or forgiveness or anything, really. Winchesters don't get to ask for things. Sam's curious what he will say next, if it'll be a general ask after Sam's welfare, or some statement of fact that Cas sometimes pulls out when things are really uncomfortable. Maybe silence of his own, waiting for Sam to set the tone.

"You can't sleep," Cas says. There's no judgment in it, which is something, but the observation still stings a little. He'd like to say that he's chosen to stay awake, thinking through the ramifications of working with the Brits, but it's not true.

"No," Sam answers, ready to let it go at that. He changes his mind, though, because this is Cas, and maybe Cas won't laugh at him. "Too many thoughts running through my head."

Cas hums again, different this time. Curious-sounding. "Not good thoughts," he says.

Sam breathes out something approximating a laugh. "No, not good ones." He finally moves, rolling over and leaning up so he can see Cas standing in his doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Cas shrugs. "I wasn't far, and Dean called to talk about your mother's proposition."

"Oh." Sam's not sure what he thinks of that. He's disappointed Dean didn't talk to _him_ about Mom's bullshit, but he was the one that walked away. Maybe Dean thought he didn't want to talk about it.

"He hates working with people who have hurt you."

Sam nods. "I know." Sam's not too fond of it himself.

"Your mother really believes they are doing good work."

Sam shrugs on that one. He doesn't care. Lucifer was doing good work, once upon a time. Crowley and Rowena do good work more often than not. Hell, he's broken the world _doing good work_. It doesn't matter.

"I'm sorry," Cas says, and it's so odd – what could Cas possibly be sorry for? And then Sam realizes it's a sympathetic apology. He is sorry that this hurts Sam. The thought is enough to shift the whole conversation sideways. He can't remember the last time someone said they were sorry for him to be hurting.

"Thanks," Sam says, falling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "Won't help me sleep, though."

"Perhaps you need a distraction," Cas says. Sam's got no idea where Cas got that idea from, but it amuses the hell out of him. Distraction has never worked for him – that's his thing, _focus_ , and he doesn't let go unless he –

Somehow, in the space of Sam's thoughts, Cas has crossed the room, climbed onto the bed, and kissed him. 

He's a little stunned at the gesture, and more than a little confused at Cas's intentions, and a little pissed at himself for not picking up what was going on before Cas's mouth was on his. 

And in the five seconds it takes him to think _those_ thoughts, Cas's tongue has gotten in on the action, and Sam is just utterly flummoxed. 

He pulls away with as much grace as he can, which, it turns out, is very little. Cas follows him, leaning across the tiny bed precariously, and Sam puts his hands on Cas's shoulders to stabilize him.

"Cas, stop."

Cas stills, his forward momentum stalled for the moment. "Was that wrong?" he asks. 

Sam laughs. "Wrong? I… that's… I don't…" A breath whooshes out of him, and he presses Cas's shoulders back a little, until Cas gets the hint that he should sit. "I don't think wrong is the word for it."

"It wasn't a mistake, then?" Cas asks.

 _A mistake?_ Sam's mind is whirling even faster than it was a few minutes ago, and he has to close his eyes to stop the merry-go-round. "No," Sam says. "A misunderstanding, maybe. But not a mistake."

Cas thinks about this for a moment. "Will you explain what I've misunderstood?"

Sam runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm not entirely sure myself," he says. "I don't know if that's you don't understand that kissing isn't something friends do, or that kissing usually requires some sort of attraction between two people, or that it's not really supposed to be a surprise, or if it's specific to me – that you didn't realize that I'm not into you that way."

"Oh," Cas says. 

Sam immediately feels bad – he didn't want to hurt Cas's feelings, and now he doesn't know which one of those things is the one that tripped Cas up, and if it was the last one, that was a pretty shitty way of giving someone the 'just friends' speech.

"I'm…" Sam swallows. Shit, he really hadn't expected something like this. "I'm sorry, Cas, I…"

"You don't reciprocate my feelings," Cas says. "I understand."

 _Oh, shit._ That is the worst possible way for this to have gone down. 

"Is it because my vessel is male?"

Sam inhales, ready to answer, and realizes he doesn't actually know the answer to that. "Um." He laughs, one short chuckle. "No, I… I mean. I'm not, I don't… guys aren't my thing, but you're not a guy – you're an angel."

"In a male vessel. And you're not attracted to men."

"Cas, no," Sam says. That's… Cas is confusing things. "It has nothing to do with your vessel. I've always been more invested in the person than the package. I've never been with a guy but I've never ruled it out, not completely."

"So it is simply me that you're not interested in."

 _Jeez!_ Sam runs his hands through his hair again, wiping a hand over his face. "I am interested in you, Cas. You're… amazing, you know so much and you've done so much for us, and I can't possibly explain what you mean to me. But attraction doesn't work like that. Attraction is a physical thing, it –"

"It's sexual. And you are heterosexual."

Well, _yeah_ , though… Sam's always questioned that. He's never been outright attracted to a guy, but there have been vague thoughts about some friends from college and after. He never acted on them, because it seemed like a terrible way to fuck up a friendship. He's never even had those kind of inklings around Cas, though.

"I… don't think that's the issue."

Cas's mouth tightens, and Sam immediately regrets not just taking him up on the heterosexual excuse. 

"Is it because I am an angel?"

Sam knows as soon as Cas says the words that it's truth. Not the entire truth, but some. He tries not to lie to Cas, but this is tricky, and he doesn't want to hurt Cas any more than he already has.

"It's not _all_ of the reason." He doesn't honestly know why he's never considered Cas in this light. He usually does for all his acquaintances, just out of habit; he's done it since he was a kid, trying to find the person he was going to marry. It'd started when he was six and realized it wasn't going to be Dean. He hadn't really understood, back then, and he's never said anything to Dean about it because he's sure it would be weird. 

It's similarly weird with Cas. If Sam'd thought about it, it would've been years ago, when he first met the angel. And as soon as he thinks that, he knows where the problem with the "angel" part of the equation comes from. The first time Sam would've considered it, a few meetings into knowing Cas, he would've known he wasn't worthy of an angel. He was dirty, unclean, and Cas was an _angel_ for Pete's sake. Of course it never got further than that.

But it's been years now, and Cas isn't the righteous soldier of God he used to be – maybe that never really was Cas, after all. But Sam's been with demons. He's considered werewolves and kitsunas and vampires… and angels are just another supernatural entity that's close enough to human that it doesn't really set Sam off anymore as someone not to get sexually or romantically involved with.

Sam realizes he's been thinking, and turns to look at Cas, trying to get a read on how disappointed he is. "It's not a deal-breaker, Cas," Sam says. "I think I probably thought of you differently back in the day. But now, you being an angel doesn't mean…"

Cas looks up, his eyes searching Sam's and apparently latching on to the one thought Sam didn't want to come across. "You thought yourself unworthy." Cas laughs, a dark, ugly sort of laugh. "But now that I've fallen –"

"No," Sam jumps in, before Cas can say it. "No, Cas, you're not fallen, or broken, or less than. And yeah, I thought myself unworthy. I still do. You're an angel. You're the _best_ of the angels. And –"

"And you are the best of the humans, Sam," Cas says. "No one is more worthy than you."

Sam scoffs. That's absolutely the lie of the century. "Thanks, Cas, but no."

"Sam," Cas says, and damn, Sam _hates_ it when people say his name that way. Most often it's Dean, and there's always the edge of disbelief, like he thinks Sam is fishing for compliments or reassurance, like it's fine that Dean has a low opinion of Sam, but it's not okay if Sam has a low opinion of himself. 

"Don't 'Sam' me, Cas. You're not my dad, you're not Dean."

"No, I'm not, and when I say 'Sam,' it's not because I've known you your whole life and have opinions about who you should be. I say it because I have watched you grow from a headstrong, opinionated, good-hearted boy into a wise, understanding, and compassionate man. You are more than you think you are, and it pains me to see you treat yourself with so little of the kindness that you give freely to everyone else."

**Author's Note:**

> And I think I basically was going to have Sam reconsider and decide to go for it, and then warm fuzzy real Sastiel kisses, the end. So, not too far from done, but I didn't quite get there.


End file.
